


CAPTAIN'S TEARS

by JanewayorNoWay



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F, First Time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-09 09:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18914068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanewayorNoWay/pseuds/JanewayorNoWay
Summary: Sometimes, the loneliness is too much.





	1. Chapter 1

I don’t know what got into me. I just wanted to let off steam, unwind. It was just supposed to be a fun night out, to team up with Seven and beat Tom Paris at pool.

Then we won. So, I poured a tumbler of whiskey to celebrate. Irish. Single batch, copper kettle. Made by an old friend. A fellow Irishman. It tastes like burnt sugar, butter and happiness. I smuggled a few cases on board before we left the Alpha quadrant. I’d forgotten all about it then found it while rummaging through barrels looking for a book I’d lost. I brought it with me to Sandrine’s. Because I have this beautiful blonde smirking at me and I’m about to become undone if I don’t get a drink.

“You should try this, Seven.” I proffer my glass. “Just a sip. You really can’t judge alcohol by the fake stuff.” She looks confused as I continue to hold my glass up for her to sip out of. My legs are a little wobbly, so she has to time it just right to get her lips on the glass as I sway. But she’s Borg. She times it to the nanosecond. And then we’re swaying together as she takes a sip.

“Huh?” I say. “Amiright?” She almost grins. I swear to god. A tiny pull on one side. I think she’s amused by me. My drunken state.

“It is quite... good. Like roasted dark Davorian honey...

“Yes!!”

“And... butter? Salted butter.”

We sway again and she pulls my hand, wrapped around my glass, back to her lips. I want her to never let go. Our eyes meet. I’m so drunk I don’t even blink. She takes a huge swig. I stare at her as delight washes over her. I watch her swish it around, suck air through her teeth, savor it. She’s grinning. Not full on, like halfway.

“This is exquisite, Captain. What is it called?”

“Captain’s Tears.”

She looks concerned. “Which Captain's tears?”

“All the Captains, Seven.”

She’s a little tipsy now. “You work too hard, Captain.”

I shrug my shoulders. It is what it is. I don’t need to tell her the same old tired story. We all know it. We all know why we’re stuck in the Delta Quadrant. Me. I fucked up everyone’s life.

God, I am so lonely. Six years of this emotional exile. Three with the most extraordinary soul I’ve ever known. Robbed of her life and becoming more achingly human every day. Her courage to keep going, to keep asking questions, to keep pushing back are the headiest aphrodisiac this lonely Captain could ever need. But I can’t give in. I’ve ruined so many lives.

Five hundred and seventy-three to be exact.

I ran the numbers once. Looked up every crewman’s relations: Mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, wives, children, siblings. Why? To remind me not to want things for myself. Like her. Don’t want her. I have no right. Because I did not just strand 141 people 70,000 light years from home, I created tragedy for everyone at home who loved them. _Don’t want things, Katie_. I told myself. _You have no right._

“There’s a story behind this whiskey.” I tell her. “Would you like to hear it?”

“I would, Captain.”

“You don’t have to call me Captain after every sentence, Seven.”

“Understood, Captain.”

“So, this was made for me by an old family friend. Right after I got my first Captaincy. He told me, “Now that you’re a Captain, no one can see you cry. So, I put your tears in a bottle so you can drink them.”

“And now you no longer cry, Captain?”

I shrug my shoulders again. Look away. “No. I still cry. I still do. Sometimes. But in private.” I look back up at her. Her face is so soft and wounded. Beautiful.

“Seven, it’s ok to cry. There’s no shame in it.”

“I do not like that you cry, Captain.”

“Why not? It’s a great release.”

I’ve managed to signal the bartender for another glass and fill it for her. She effortlessly takes it, downs the whole thing. What’s going on with her tonight? What’s going on with me tonight? I’m coming unraveled, that’s what. And my Astrometrics Officer is getting drunk. Is this a dream? How else can those big blue eyes be looking at me like that? With a full-on grin. Like, ear to ear, gazing right into my soul.

“Come on, babe, let’s go to my quarters and try to sober up.” Shit. I just called her babe.

“I would like that, Captain.”

“You don’t have to call me Captain after every sentence, Seven.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Once in my quarters, I turn to the replicator and order two coffees. When I turn around, she’s on me. Her fat lips covering mine, her hands tugging at my buttocks, pulling my groin against her hip bone. Oh god. I’m kissing her back. I drop the coffees, tangle my hands in her hair and god she tastes so good. So right. Bolts of sheer electricity shoot to my groin. I pull away, “This is inappropriate.” I hear myself saying. “Inappropriate.”

Seven just stands there, hands still on my ass, face inches from mine, her hot breath coming in deep quavering gasps. She seizes my lips again. I guess I paused too long after “inappropriate” because we’re back at it. She’s heaven. It’s heaven.

“No. Seven, we can’t. We can’t.” I pull away more forcefully. Like I really don’t want to continue. Even though I do. God, I do. With every fiber of my being I need to make love to this woman. It is coded in my DNA. It’s genetic, this want, this need, this drive, this love. I can’t change it. I tried. It’s hardwired.

We stand breathing, holding each other. I can feel her heart pounding through her chest. She wants me. Oh, my god, yes. It’s not just me. We’re both terrified. We hold each other, soothe each other, our hands gently stroking the other’s back as we get our breathing under control. Finally, I step away, tears streaming down my face.

“I’m so sorry, Seven. But it would be wrong for me to do this.”

I watch her heart break. And mine with it. She reaches up to my cheek with her thumb, wipes a tear away.

“These are not Captain’s tears,” she slurs. “They are Kathryn’s tears.”

I come undone. Messy, snotty sobs. She tries to pull my chin up, fails, dips her head and plants tiny kisses on my forehead, my face, my lips. I’m back in her arms, taking her in my mouth. Crying. She tenderly strokes my bottom, my back, while our tongues seek each other out. She whispers. “We have waited long enough. There is nothing left for us to do but to love each other.”

She takes my hand, leads me into the bedroom, we disrobe each other, our hands shaking. She lays me on my bed and proceeds to touch and kiss and suck and stroke every inch of my body. When her lips land on my clitoris I feel like she’s swallowing me whole. I hope she does. I want to be inside her and never come out. As her tongue makes insane passes at my hardened clit I feel the rise of my love for her exploding out from my center in wave after wave. Please don’t stop. Please let this go on forever. It almost does. I come so hard I pull a muscle. She wipes her chin on the sheets and moves up to kiss me. We kiss for long moments, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“I love you.” I say.

“I know.” She says. “I have known for a long time. I have been waiting for you to know.”

We fall asleep. And never spend another night apart.

THE END


	2. Chapter 2

I knew she was in trouble. I knew she would not realize it until it was too late.

She thinks she is made of iron. She thinks Starfleet principles are enough to sustain her. She forgot about her soul. Her humanity. She saved mine. Why does she believe hers is not worth salvaging?

That is why I took her book and hid it in Cargo Bay 1, where she often went to sit and read where no one could find her. I knew of her visits because I had started keeping track of her  location throughout the day. It made me feel safe, to know where she was in the ship at any given time. I hid the book near the barrels where she kept her whiskey. She forgot that she told me about it. Forgot that I already knew the story. 

I took the book from her ready room. Shortly after my rescue from the Equinox. I had a careful plan. I would wait until we had a victory. Because her guard is down when she’s happy. Others think she is weakest when she has experienced a loss. I knew that was not true. It had to happen after a success. She would not be wary of her feelings while in a celebratory mood. After a loss, she is more guarded. She retreats. Her physical form is present, but Kathryn Janeway is nowhere to be found. I needed Kathryn to make this decision, not the Captain. 

So I waited. 

After a successful diplomatic mission with all Voyager’s stores restocked and a route to a wormhole that would save us two years, I took the book and hid it. 

I knew she wanted me. I saw the look in her eyes 14 months, 10 days and 17 minutes ago. A look of love and pain. 

Until that look, I did not know I could feel love. I felt the look electrify my body, trigger a sensation of deep want and sadness for my beautiful Captain and all she denied herself so that others would thrive. I came into my humanity that day.

She thinks it was her idea to invite me to play Tom Paris at pool. I am the one who stated, “Sometimes, Tom Paris needs to be reminded that he is not invincible.” The Captain invited me to join her in a game against him and Harry Kim. 

I did not want her to be drunk. I just needed her to lower her inhibitions so Kathryn would be there. So, when she was otherwise occupied I poured water in her drink, pacing her intoxication.. 

She was so happy. So light. It was everything i could do not to hold her, touch her, lean down and kiss her in Sandrine’s. When she offered her whiskey for a taste I happily imbibed. I wanted her to look in my eyes, see my love there. I swayed in rhythm to her as I wrapped my hand around hers, staring directly into those exquisitely sad eyes.

I had not expected to get intoxicated myself. The whiskey was a new experience, I enjoyed its flavor. Maybe because I knew I was drinking my Captain’s tears, and I wanted to drink them all away. “Give me your beautiful sad tears, Captain, I will drink them and turn them into love.”

In the walk back to her quarters I was filled with fear. I had no idea what I was doing. I did not know how to convey my feelings. I was terrified that I had been mistaken in all my observations and assumptions. That my clumsy attempt would be refused and I would forever damage our friendship. I knew she needed a friend. What if I took that away by making a failed attempt to be her lover? She would have no one. 

I have heard Terrans refer to alcohol as “liquid courage.” This is a correct, because, as she turned to me with the coffees in her hand, I felt certain of my success. I made my move. It was sudden and awkward, but my lips found their target. When I heard her moan, felt her hands weave through my hair, I knew I had been correct. 

I did not know what I was doing. I only knew what I wanted. I wanted her pubis bone against my hip bone. I wanted her lips on mine, her tongue inside my mouth. I wanted to consume her. When she pulled away the first time, I saw her resolve was weak. When she paused, I kissed her again, pulled her against me, wrapped my arms around  her waist, stroked her buttocks, feeling the charge of desire flood my groin. I had never felt this. The sense that something was so correct. So necessary. My hands burned at the feel of her body. 

She told me once she had ruined 573 lives and there would be no peace for her until she had righted that wrong. _“I have ruined millions,”_ I thought. _“There will never be peace for me.”_ But, feeling her body against mine, feeling her elegant fingers stroking my cheek, tasting her whiskey-soaked mouth, I knew this would be my peace. If she would let me love her. I could find redemption for my sins.

Then, she pulled away a second time, insisting that it was wrong. We were wrong. I broke. There would be no peace now, for either of us and our sins. No redemption. No love. Her humanity would be denied. She would let it die and I would watch helplessly. I felt a pain deep in my chest, stealing my breath from me. I could not let this happen. I must say something. Call to my Kathryn. Beseech her. _Do not let the Captain do this to you. You are my love. I am yours.”_  I reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek, brought it to my tongue. It was salty, filled with pain and, regret and love.  _Here is my Kathryn._

I took her hand and led her to bed. We shook as we disrobed each other. I do not know how I knew what was right. I merely did what my body craved. My hands and lips and tongue tasted her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. My lips sucked at her nipples, my tongue flicking them to attention. 

My lips and tongue tasted her labia, sucked and teased at her clitoris. To smell her, taste her most intimate parts was extraordinary. I had never felt such love for anyone or anything. As she climaxed, I gripped her buttocks, pulled her hard against my mouth, not letting her pull away. I wanted her spent. I wanted her to know she was my joy, my love, my humanity. She told me she loved me and we fell asleep. The next morning she requested time off, we made love all day. We made love many days and years after that, two sinners, redeemed.


End file.
